


Crux

by unoriginal_liz



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:45:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginal_liz/pseuds/unoriginal_liz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calling Derek was, in a weird way, her first line of defence.  It was her fledgling attempt at marshaling the vague, unsettled feeling that always appeared a week prior to every Derek-involved special occasion, into <i>readiness.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Crux

**Author's Note:**

> I think I started this because at the time there were a lot of Lizzie/Edwin, Casey/Derek stories floating around, and they made me so nervous. The pessimist in me could never buy it all working out happily. Seriously - it's way too neat, and one of those relationships is gonna fail! Cue huge interfamily fallout. Which I then realised I was kind of into, and I wanted to write a story where Casey and Derek have held back from ever crossing that line, and are basically semi-estranged, and how everything goes to hell when college-aged Lizzie and Edwin get together...and then break up. Teenage Marti was going to start a celibacy club. I wish I'd gotten to the celibacy club.

She left it until the last minute to phone Derek. 

Well, comparatively speaking. For Casey, the last minute was eight thirty a.m. on Friday, which left a whole day for planning and organisation. A whole day that wasn't really needed, given that the Thanksgiving Car Share was an unspoken tradition, and the only thing that needed to be confirmed was the time that Derek was picking her up on Saturday morning.

She could have texted, of course. It would have been easier, cleaner, kept unnecessary contact to a minimum...

She should have texted.

But calling Derek was, in a weird way, her first line of defence. It was her fledgling attempt at marshaling the vague, unsettled feeling that always appeared a week prior to every Derek-involved special occasion, into _readiness_.

The phone call served as a warm-up for the car-ride, and the car-ride was preparation for the enforced cohabitation that holidays/special occasions demanded. It was a delicate and finely balanced system.

Except - Derek didn't answer his phone. 

She called again during her coffee-break, and left a message this time. ("Derek - it's Casey. I called earlier...can you call me back when you get this?")

Then she tried during her lunch-break. ("Derek - hi. It's one-thirty, and you haven't called me back. Did you get my messages? I need to know what time you're picking me up tomorrow.")

She hit redial almost as soon as she'd hung up. ("Just to clarify - I meant ' _if_ ' you're picking me up tomorrow. Which I just assumed because...anyway, if you're changing the arrangement, I'd appreciate some advance notice. Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Casey.")

After work, she phoned three more times, each message becoming shorter and more terse until finally, at eight-thirty p.m., exactly twelve house after she had first tried to make contact, she released a three minute soundbite of frustration. ("Derek - pick up! I know you're there. I don't know why you're not answering, or what exactly you hope to accomplish by doing this, but - it's really immature. Pick up! You know, I thought we were beyond this...it's not like I'm jumping for joy eith- Are we sharing a car to London? It's a simple question. Maybe you could...I don't know...answer it? _Pick up_. Okay. Fine. You know what? That's _fine_. I would have figured even _you_ could take one minute out of your 'busy' schedule to do that. But my mistake - clearly, acting like a _juvenile jerk_ is a full-time occupation.")

With an inarticulate growl of frustration, she hung up, only to find her roommate leaning against the kitchen doorway and examining her. 

"And the pilgrims thought _they_ had it rough," Lorena said. She tilted her head. "He still hasn't called you back?"

Casey grimaced. "No." She looked down at her cellphone, voice a perfect combination of dry and long-suffering, "But this is par for the course with Derek." 

The lie came out easily - maybe because it wasn't a fullbodied lie. It was more of a...half-truth. Once upon a time, this _would_ have been par for the course, instead of the last death rattle of an old habit.

Loren raised her eyebrows and Casey explained, "It's his childish and pathetic way of lording what little power he has over me."

"Makes me glad I'm having my turkey solo this year," Lorena said. "...almost."

"You're still going through with that?"

She shrugged. "I told Mom and Dad in September that David and I were celebrating this one alone. Why should I let my break-up spoil their holiday?"

"I'm sure your parents would be glad to have you home for Thanksgiving," Casey said.

"Nah," Lorena shook her head. "It's not that, really. It's just...I have enough to deal with, without adding family to the mix." She paused. "And now I sound like a heinous bitch. Ugh."

"No, you don't," Casey reassured her. A little hesitantly, she confided, "I know what you mean, actually. I'm...not looking forward to this whole family holiday thing either." Almost immediately, guilt made her hurry to qualify her statement. "I mean - Derek and I aren't all that close, so that's, you know, _pressure_ , and then...it's not that I don't get along with everyone else in my family - and _of course_ I want to spend time with them, I do, but it's all just...a little too much, sometimes."

It wasn't a very good explanation, she knew - talking around the problem, instead of about it...but then, that was _definitely_ par for the course, these days.

Still, Lorena hummed in seeming agreement, padding across the kitchen. As she examined the contents of the refrigerator, she said, "I think it's just...David was kind of like - part of the family, you know?" She pulled out a juice box and shut the refrigerator door. "You ever have that?"

"Not...really," Casey said.

"He even went fishing with my dad," Lorena continued. "I mean, he called him 'the son he never had.' Which really pisses off the twins, but that's not the point." She sighed. "I just - can't face having to break up with them _for_ him. Not this weekend, anyway."

She punctured the covered hole with her straw. "You know what kills me? _He_ was the one pushing for this whole just-us Thanksgiving. And then he breaks up with me. If he was any kind of a person at all, he would have waited until _after_ the holidays. A little common decency never killed anyone, right?"

" _Right_ ," Casey agreed suddenly, as if the thought were just occurring to her. "Basic courtesy should be an inalienable right, not some...optional extra. People should behave with a certain amount of civility and consideration." She narrowed her eyes. "And if they _don't_ behave with that fundamental, _basic_ level of human decency...well then, sometimes, you just have to _demand_ it."

With sudden determination, she pressed redial on her cellphone. It went straight to voicemail (again), but her resolute expression didn't change. "Derek," she said. "Hi. This is Casey. For the last time. Since you haven't called me back, I'm assuming that our arrangement still stands for tomorrow. I expect to see you at eight am. Sharp."

And she hung up.

"Okay, I was just shooting my mouth off," Lorena said. "But good for you."

*****

The call came long after she had stopped expecting it. Ironically, if she hadn't been so out of practice on all things Derek, she would have anticipated it.

As it was, it made her jerk awake and knock the book on her bedside locker to the floor, in the ensuing fumble for her ringing cellphone. She made a sound when she answered, a sort of verbal flinch that was more a reaction to the brutally bright bedside light she had just flicked on, but Derek either took this as a greeting, or didn't care.

"Ten," he said.

Casey struggled to sit up in bed while still shielding her eyes from the light. "What? But traffic will be" - 

"Nine," he interrupted, throwing her off-balance, just as she had readied herself for an argument. "Final offer, no negotiation."

She grumbled an indistinct agreement.

There was a pause, which made her heart thump with irrational panic - their infrequent conversations were usually sheared of anything irrelevant or extraneous, ruthlessly to the point. And never long enough for pauses.

"And Casey? Be ready," he said.

"Be ready?" she repeated. "What does _that_ mean? Have you ever known me to be unprepared? ...Derek? _Derek?_ "

But he had already hung up.


End file.
